


Don't Say A Word

by ariadnerue



Series: You're Beautiful, Don't Change [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Missing Scene, Sad Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadnerue/pseuds/ariadnerue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally, Carmilla would have jokingly described a silent Laura as a miracle.  This was anything but.</p><p>Takes place during the 36 hour gap in episode 36 of season 2.</p><p>(previously titled "In The Silence")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Say A Word

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this (http://natlise.co.vu/post/137724578460/)
> 
> I just have a lot of feelings.
> 
> EDIT: Changed the title from "In The Silence" so it'll fit into a series and adjusted the last few paragraphs slightly.

Carmilla Karnstein had always appreciated silence.  She was a reader, always had been.  She liked the quiet.

But Laura Hollis and quiet did not mix.

She never stopped talking.  And even when she did, she filled the silence with fidgeting, runaway energy that was almost as loud as her endless talking.

Normally, Carmilla would have jokingly described a silent Laura as a miracle.

This was anything but.

This was a dark little room in the depths of the library.  This was the musty smell of old books and earth and blood.  This was a twitchy bio major disappearing to rig up an ether-net connection to keep their mind off their missing friends, leaving Carmilla alone with a girl that only vaguely resembled Laura Hollis.

This was scary.  But, Carmilla knew, it was also necessary.

Laura was so young.  Nineteen and trying to shoulder the weight of the world.  She was strong, stronger than a girl of her size had any right to be, but the events of the past few weeks could beat anyone down.  Laura needed to process.  She needed to grieve.  She needed some time to be silent and still and just exist.

So that was exactly what Carmilla was going to give her.  Silence.  Stillness.  Time.

But that didn’t change the fact that there were things that needed to be done.

So Carmilla set to work, moving around Laura slowly and quietly.  Digging a first aid kit out of the library’s ever-changing architecture and seating herself in front of Laura with a clean cloth wet with isopropyl alcohol.

“I’m going to clean your cuts, okay?” Carmilla whispered.  Laura’s eyes flicked up to hers, glassy and distant, and Carmilla swallowed hard.  “This will sting a bit.”

Laura didn’t flinch when Carmilla reached up with her free hand and brushed her hair away from her forehead.  She barely blinked when Carmilla slid a thumb along her jawline to tilt her head up a bit.  She inhaled quietly when Carmilla ran the cloth across the gash on her forehead, but Carmilla was slow.  She was gentle.  She touched Laura like she would break, and maybe she would.

Laura’s breath slowed after a moment.  She closed her eyes.  Carmilla could feel her settling, could feel the way she leaned her face ever so slightly into Carmilla’s touch at her cheek.  Carmilla’s slow-beating heart panged uncomfortably in her chest.  Laura needed this.  Whispers and soft touches.  It was comforting her.  Which was good, because Carmilla had never done something like this before.  Not once in over three centuries.

She would only do this for Laura.

She dabbed the dry corner of the cloth against the clean cut and Laura’s eyes fluttered open.  She met Carmilla’s gaze with focus for the first time in over an hour and Carmilla stilled.  Laura took in a quiet breath and licked her lips like she was preparing to speak, but her eyes filled with tears and she looked down.

Carmilla swallowed hard.  Her hands shook for a moment and she had to busy herself with the bottle of alcohol to cover it up.

She had never expected someone to capture her so completely.  Especially not this nosey little girl who was always rushing headlong into danger.  She was annoying and exhausting and goddammit, Carmilla was so in love with her she couldn’t even describe it.  Couldn’t stand it sometimes.  She had been in love before, but never like this.  Never with her whole self.

Even after all that had transpired, or maybe especially after all that had transpired, she loved her so fiercely she burned.  She pined.  She perished.  She could wax poetic about the stars for days, but they paled in comparison to this girl.  This _girl_.  This beautiful explosion of color and sound, this fool who was responsible for the death of her sister and oldest friend, this broken hearted dreamer staring at the floor and holding her breath to stop herself from crying.

All Carmilla wanted in the entire world was to reach out and touch her.  To hold her in her arms.  To kiss her tears away and whisper little lies to her about how everything would be okay.  She loved her so much, her fingers tingled and her eyes stung and her whole world tilted precariously on its axis because she was sad.  She was hurting.  She was trying not to let Carmilla see her cry, because Carmilla had broken her heart.

Carmilla had to look away for a moment herself.  She had broken Laura’s heart.  She couldn’t hold her close, she couldn’t kiss her.  In her heart she still truly believed Laura to be hers, but she knew now wasn’t the time for any possessive vampire crap.  So instead she would just take care of her.  She would be as close as she could.

She reached forward without preamble and tugged the collar of Laura’s jacket aside, leaning in a bit to inspect the bleeding cut on her chest.  It looked a little worse than the one on her forehead and Carmilla frowned.

“This one needs a bit more attention,” Carmilla whispered, reaching in under Laura’s jacket and settling a hand on her side just beneath her right arm to hold her in place.  She looked up into Laura’s eyes, but they were unfocused again.  “Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay?”

She set to work on the gash, taking long, slow breaths to keep her touch gentle.  She was too strong sometimes.  Worried she’d apply just a little too much pressure and hurt someone.  Hurt Laura.  It wasn’t a worry she’d had since she first turned, first had to learn to use her newly acquired strength.  But everything was different now.  With her.

Laura inhaled sharply and Carmilla froze, pulling back so fast she even startled herself.

“I’m sorry,” Carmilla breathed, searching Laura’s expression for discomfort or pain.  But anything that had been there had already passed and Laura just licked her lips again and blinked at her.  “Are you okay?  Should I stop?”

A small shake of her head was the only response Carmilla got, so she swallowed hard and set her jaw and continued.

“Okay, done,” Carmilla sighed, patting Laura’s collarbone dry and sitting back a bit.  She looked at Laura carefully, listening to her breathe.  “Are you hurt anywhere else?”  Laura twitched, just a bit, but Carmilla saw.  “Laura.  Please.  Show me.”

Very slowly, Laura lifted her left arm.  There was a faint blood stain on the inside of her jacket, rubbing off from her black tank top.  Carmilla stiffened, eyes widening.  The smell of blood was stronger now that Laura had lifted her arm.  She’d been hiding it, keeping her arm tucked in on purpose.  Carmilla reached out with shaking fingers.

“Can I…” she murmured, pausing at the hem of the tank top.  Laura nodded and Carmilla slid the fabric up.  “God, Laura…”

On Laura’s left side, just under her ribcage, was a short, deep wound.  It started bleeding slowly as soon as the fabric of the tank top was lifted away.  Carmilla’s breath caught in her chest and she closed her eyes.

“Why didn’t you…” she began, brow furrowed and breathless with concern.  “You should have told me sooner, you…”  She stopped herself and shook her head, heart twisting at Laura’s gasp of pain when she pressed a clean cloth to her side to stop the bleeding.  “I’m sorry, I know it hurts.  I’m sorry.”

Laura shook her head, tears rolling free from her eyes as she looked away.  Purely on instinct, Carmilla reached up with her free hand and brushed them away with her thumb.  Laura met her eyes, surprised by the action, and Carmilla faltered.  She looked down, taking Laura’s hand and pressing it over the cloth at her side.

“Hold this here,” she instructed gently.  “I’m going to get the rest of the first aid kit and a change of clothes for you.”

Carmilla moved quickly, slipping through the dark halls with practiced ease and finding the little den she’d made herself the last couple days.  When she got lost in here.  After she’d left.  After she’d grabbed Laura by the hair and called her selfish and callow and threatened her.  Her hands started shaking again and she clenched them into fists.

She had one of Laura’s shirts and a pair of her pants stashed away down here.  After sleeping with Laura, with her warmth and her smell and her quiet breaths in her ear, trying to sleep without her had proved impossible.  So she’d stolen some of her dirty laundry and snuck it down here, like the cat she was.  Just for the smell.  It was pathetic.

She considered briefly if Laura would wonder where the clothes came from.  How they’d ended up here.  But if she wanted to know, she’d have to ask.  And that would mean she’d be talking again.  It was worth the risk.

When Carmilla returned, Laura was struggling to shrug out of her jacket while keeping the cloth pressed to her side, wincing in pain.  Carmilla was on her knees in front of her in seconds.

“Hey hey, careful,” she murmured, placing a gentle hand over Laura’s on her side.  “Don’t move too much.”

Laura let out a quiet huff of frustration, but she stopped moving.  Carmilla trained her gaze carefully on her own hands as she slid the jacket from Laura’s shoulders.  It was almost too much.  Too close.  Too intimate.  It was hard, watching Laura’s throat flex as she swallowed, hearing her breath catch at Carmilla’s touch.

Carmilla had to keep reminding herself that she had done this.  She had ended things.  She had done what she thought was right, what maybe still was right, so she had to live with this.  With the memory of the last time she’d removed Laura’s clothes for her and what a very different situation it had been.  But then Laura clenched her teeth, grimacing in pain, and none of that mattered anymore.

“Arms up,” Carmilla said quickly, and Laura did as she was told without hesitation.  The movement drew another shudder from her, so Carmilla moved quickly, pulling her blood-soaked tank top up over her head and dropping it to the floor.

Laura shivered a bit, no doubt cold now that she was down to her bra and pants, so Carmilla grabbed a big furry blanket from the floor beside her and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised as she eased the cloth off of Laura’s side, trying not to notice the way Laura trembled.  She set to work cleaning the deep wound as best she could, blinking back tears with every small sound of discomfort Laura made.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered every time, but Laura just shook her head.

The cuts on her forehead and chest were situated in such a way that she couldn’t really dress them properly, but this one she could.  She wound gauze around Laura’s middle, fingers skimming over soft skin as quick as she could manage.  She wanted to linger, but she wouldn’t let herself.  When she was done, she helped Laura into the shirt she had brought her.  The navy one with the sharks on it.  Laura gave the shirt an odd look and Carmilla held her breath, but in the end she maintained her silence.

Carmilla fussed with the shirt a bit once it was on, smoothing out the wrinkles left from her sleeping with it clutched to her chest.  Laura just watched her, still and silent and broken.  She let Laura change her pants herself, turning her back on her for privacy.  But Carmilla couldn’t help the little thrill she got when Laura reached out and touched her shoulder to signify that she could turn back once she was done.

They settled back onto the floor, Laura huddled under the blanket and Carmilla watching her.

“You should get some rest,” Carmilla whispered, and Laura looked up to meet her eyes.  Carmilla just gave her a small smile, hoping it was encouraging, but Laura glanced away nervously.  “I’ll be here, Laura.  I’ll make sure you’re safe.”  Laura swallowed hard and Carmilla frowned.  “Unless… you don’t want me to stay?”

That got the most violent reaction yet.  Laura looked up at her with wide eyes, shaking her head vehemently.  Carmilla’s heart broke a little more.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” she murmured, gesturing for Laura to lie down.  But Laura just stared at her, biting her lip.  “You… want me to lie down with you?”

A frantic nod.  Carmilla swallowed hard and felt herself nodding back before she had time to think about it.  Laura held the blanket out to her and lied down, waiting for Carmilla to join her with wide eyes.  So Carmilla took a deep breath and lay down beside her, draping the blanket over both of them and placing a tentative hand on Laura’s hip.  Laura seemed to consider briefly if she wanted to cuddle in closer, but instead she just closed her eyes and settled in.

Carmilla just sighed and did the same, sinking into the warmth and the silence.  A few halls over she could hear the bio major talking to themself, or possibly the walls, so Carmilla knew they were safe.  Maybe not entirely sane, but safe.  So she let herself go just a little bit, taking a deep breath of the warm, sleepy smell of Laura’s hair and pretending everything was okay.

They would need to talk about this.  At length.  Because Carmilla was still entirely, desperately in love with this girl, and that wasn’t going to change.  But for now, she was tired.  And it was quiet.  And she could just close her eyes and imagine they were back in their dorm room, safe and warm and happy and together.

Laura’s breaths got long and slow.  Her body settled, relaxed fully under Carmilla’s hand on her hip.  Carmilla pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ve only ever known how to take care of myself,” she sighed into Laura’s hair.  “But I don’t mind taking care of you.”

It wasn’t quite ‘I love you,’ but now wasn’t the time for that.  Now was the time for silence.


End file.
